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“Hello? Is someone there?” Oscar cocked his head. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the cover on his cage had shifted a little. He shifted on the perch and cocked his head to the other side. “Hello? Is someone—WHOOOOOAAA!” Oscar clung to his perch as something landed with a thud on top of his cage, making it swing violently from side to side.

Oscar tumbled to the floor of his cage. He’d only ever had this happen once before, and that had been a few years earlier when a delivery man had knocked his cage over by mistake. (Oscar had dubbed it the Great Cage Catastrophe. It still gave him nightmares.) He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for impact.

But the crash didn’t come.

Instead, there was a slippery sliding noise as the quilted cover fell to the floor, making the cage swing even more crazily.

Oscar wobbled over to the bars to peer out.

There, on the floor, was Walt. She was sprawled in a heap with the cage cover tangled around her. She stood up and shook herself off, stepping gracefully out of the crumpled fabric.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Walt demanded, smoothing her fur. “Butterbean’s in trouble. Let’s go.”

Walt and Oscar made it down to the basement in record time. They hadn’t even waited to make sure that no one was in the elevator—they just bolted inside as soon as the doors opened. (Luckily it was empty.) But aside from a few signs of Butterbean here and there (a patch of drool by the elevator doors, a clump of hair stuck to the elevator rug), there was no signof the dog herself.

“We’ll get there in time,” Oscar said quietly, watching the numbers light up. “She’s fine.” But his words sounded hollow. They both knew that might not be true.

“That raccoon wasn’t joking,” Walt said in a low voice. “That threat was real.”

Oscar didn’t say anything. They both knew Walt was right.

“Basement,” the elevator voice said. Walt leaned against the doors, and as soon as they opened, she raced out of the elevator. Three rats were standing outside the door to the storage area.

One stepped forward, holding his hands up defensively.“We tried to stop her. Don’t blame us.”

“She wouldn’t listen,” the second rat said, wringing her hands.

Walt and Oscar looked at each other in dismay.

“Um. Thanks… Pocky, was it?” Oscar said.

“I’m Lego,” the first rat said. “That’s Pocky.” He jerked his head toward the second rat. “And over there, that’s Ken.”

“Hey,” the third rat said, lifting his hand in a low wave. “Your dog friend? She’s in there. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah. You shouldn’t go in there,” Lego said. “It’s bad.”

“Is she really a therapist?” Pocky asked.

“But how did she get in?” Walt asked. That had been the one thing giving her hope. That Butterbean wouldn’t be able to get inside. She couldn’t go through the vents, after all, and no one was with her to open the door. She turned on Pocky, the rat who was closest to her. “Was it you? Did you open the door for her?”

“Not us,” Pocky said, raising her hands up. “Him.” She jerked her thumb upward.

Chad, dangling from the exit sign, waved a tentacle.“How’s it going?”

“Chad?” Oscar couldn’t believe it. It had never occurred to him that Butterbean might have an accomplice.

“Why would you do that?” Walt demanded.

“What? She showed up at my door. She said she’d pay. Canned tuna,” Chad said grouchily. “How was I supposed to know this was a rogue operation?”

“We have to go in there. Now.” Oscar nodded toward the door.

“I CAN’T SAY NO TO CANNED TUNA!” Chad said, waving his free tentacles wildly.

Walt glared at him.“Just open it, Chad.”

“Sure, no problem. I’m just the doorman,” Chad grumbled. “You know me, I live to open doors.” He pushed the key code and glared at them. “And just so you know, I was BEING HELPFUL. This is NOT MY FAULT.”

Chad snorted huffily as he tugged at the handle with one of his free tentacles. The door swung open.

Walt and Oscar squeezed through the gap and then stopped short, their eyes wide. It was worse than they’d thought.

— 15 —

BUTTERBEAN WAS SURROUNDED. THE RACCOONS were pressed in so close around her that Walt and Oscar could only see the top of her head. Oscar swallowed hard. There were so many raccoons. But strangely, they didn’t even seem to notice Walt and Oscar.

“Butterbean!” Oscar croaked as he and Walt pushed through the wall of raccoons. It didn’t matter how many there were. They had to get to Butterbean. They had to save her.

Walt ducked under tails and around raccoon armpits as she made her way into the circle, followed quickly by Oscar. But whatever they’d expected to see, this was not it.

“Butterbean?” Walt said in a hushed voice.

“Shh!” Butterbean said, frowning at them. She was sitting on a thin pillow in the center of the circle, right next to an ordinary cardboard box. Walt blinked. A cardboard box that had the big raccoon lying on top of it. Butterbean shot Walt and Oscar another stern look and then turned to the raccoon. “I’m sorry. Go on.”